


Under the Poplar Tree

by raven_of_hydecastle



Series: Fairly Odd [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur doesn't get faeries at all, Banter, Faerie-AU, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Merlin is a faerie, Merlin turned into a Disney character, a Nix actually, flluff, he doesn't understand humans, hurt Arthur, they're both idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 15:04:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18033962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_of_hydecastle/pseuds/raven_of_hydecastle
Summary: “Does it still hurt?” the creature asked. Arthur was surprised by the concern in his voice.“Obviously. What do you think being stabbed feels like?” he groused.The fairy wrung its hands, frowning. “I wish I knew more healing magic, but it’s not my kind’s strength. I’m sorry.”Arthur looked at the creature’s ears (and the furred tail that he’d missed at first glance) and asked, “What is your kind?”“I’m a Nix!” Emrys said brightly, “we drown people!”





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Faeries have true names that they keep secret from everybody. 
> 
> Ambrose (true name)=Emrys, Myrridian, and others (pseudonyms) 
> 
> FYI, this is a prequel to another fic I have in the works, so the name 'Merlin' doesn't show up.

He didn’t remember how he got there; as far as Ambrose knew, he had always been under the poplar tree. But time wasn’t an issue for him. Seasons passed, the world turned, but nothing changed for him. He watched the tree bloom and wither every year, played in the stream, in the waterfall, and relaxed on the shore, wanting nothing but beautiful flowers to bloom on the bank each spring.

Sometimes other creatures came into the glade, and Ambrose didn’t like most of them. He was a solitary Nixe, though others would argue. What friends he had he kept close, and everyone else had best stay away. When asked how he acquired said friends Ambrose had no answer; they were such old acquaintances that it was like asking how he ended up under the poplar tree. But it didn’t matter what they were or where they came from as long as they were still his friends.

That spring, when the tree was in full bloom and birds were nesting in its boughs, Ambrose took to swimming in the water. He loved feeling the waterfall beat down on his head, and there was a clever hollow the water had wormed into the back of the rock, which was a perfect hiding place when the other creatures bothered him. They’d been doing it a lot recently, and always brought disgusting iron with them.

Ambrose, like most of his kind, despised impure metal; it reeked of fire and death. When a sharpened blade flashed in the sunlight it brought a memory to the surface of his otherwise placid mind; a burning forest, axes biting into the trees, and his poor friends weeping as their lifeblood oozed from their trunks. No, he didn’t like the other creatures.

But if he had one weakness it was his fascination with good steel. Unlike iron, steel rang sweet in his ears as it cut through the air--like a bell, he would have said, except he hadn’t heard a bell ring in his entire life. He wasn’t one of the ostentatious fey folk, after all. Curious trinkets, mystic artifacts, or anything outside his glade was unknown and uninteresting to him. But steel had a pull on him, and he didn’t understand why, only that it made him happy.

He had a nice collection of it sitting at the bottom of the lake. He loved trying on the bracelets and rings that had been tossed into the pond by silly creatures, and his constant fiddling kept the rust off them. Many years ago he had done small favors for the creatures who’d given him his trinkets, but lately, nobody decent visited his glade. The ones who stumbled on his paradise were bloodied and always dressed in wretched iron. The forest was full of them, and Ambrose spent many nights curled in his hollow behind the waterfall, praying that his poplar tree would still be there tomorrow.

Why did those creatures fight? All that he loved and treasured was hacked to pieces by their senseless squabbling; it was like they couldn’t even hear the trees screaming, or the way the flowers cringed as they stomped past. Even the water was disturbed, and it murmured its worries to Ambrose, who soothed it with a word. Long gone were the days when he could relax by his pool; the world was being swallowed in fire and blood, and Ambrose wanted no part of it.

So, when one of the warmongers crashed into the grove and collapsed under his poplar tree, Ambrose panicked.

Luckily, he had been in the water, and it was easy to hide in his natural element. The creature didn’t see him, too busy clutching its side. Ambrose peeked around the waterfall for a closer look; it better not be getting blood on his poplar tree!

The creature--he’s heard they were called ‘humans’--was pretty young, only a fledgling. Why was a little one fighting? That wasn’t right! It was wrapped in metal from head to toe and had a red cloak brighter than autumn leaves. It’s--his?--hair was a lovely shade of gold, but cut too short to admire. Ambrose fiddled one of his dark locks; it was such a waste.

The human’s injury was on his side; the metal weave had been hacked through and was turning red. Further in the forest other creatures-- _bad_ creatures--shouted angrily as they got closer. Ambrose flinched back, unable to take his eyes off the scene; the other humans would be there in moments, and when they found the fledgling they’d hurt him. Or worse...he remembered the trees from long, long ago being torn down...they could kill him.

Power didn’t come free for anyone, even his kind. If he helped the human he’d have to demand repayment, and if the fledgling couldn’t pay...He shuddered and sank deeper into the water.

A doe had told him once that nobody entered the clearing because they thought he was a monster. That didn’t make sense though, because Ambrose never hurt anybody. It was the creatures with axes and iron that killed their friends who were monsters.

Ambrose bit his lip; payment or no, he couldn’t ignore what was about to happen under his poplar tree.


	2. Debts and Names

Arthur gasped as the blood left his body; it wouldn’t be long before Cenred’s men found him and--if he was lucky--took him hostage. The border patrol had turned out to be a lot more dangerous than Uther expected; that would teach his father to ignore Arthur’s requests for additional men.

It wasn’t fair that he’d ended up in a glade straight out of a fairy tale either; it was so peaceful that he could almost forget about the bloodbath that had happened less than a mile away or the sound of soldiers crashing through the underbrush as they looked for him. If he had to die, this was a good place to do it, surrounded by tranquil nature. But it still wasn’t fair.

He stared down at his sword--it was broken at the hilt and wouldn’t do him any good now… His eyesight was getting blurry. Arthur looked at the pond and could have sworn he saw a face in the water. Hallucinations already, or…?

Arthur had the urge to do something crazy. His father would kill him, but he was already dying; it wasn’t like it could get any worse.

“Hey, fairy,” he panted, looking down at the water. A dark shape lurked just under the surface. “When you’re ready to get off your arse I could use some help.”

The Prince of Camelot groaned as dizziness flooded his body, and his eyes blurred. He was still conscious when Ambrose came and lifted him onto his shoulders--muttering irritatedly about helpless humans--but by then he was so far gone he figured it was all a dream.  

 

***

 

Arthur fell in and out of consciousness. He was cold and his side hurt too much to sleep properly. When he was nearly awake, he could feel the thin, cold fingers of something inhuman tending to his wound and it made him shudder.

After who knew how long he managed to crack open his eyes. He was laying in a small, damp cave behind a waterfall. A magic light bobbed in midair, casting bluish shadows everywhere. The creature was gone. Arthur counted his blessings and tried to sit, but only managed to aggravate himself.

“Confound it all,” he hissed, clutching the wound. A dark green poultice oozed out of the bandages his shirt had been ripped into. “What’s this?”

He peeled back the cloth and paled at what he saw. He was hurt  _ that _ bad?

“Stop that,” someone snapped, “you’re going to ruin all my hard work.”

Arthur’s head shot up; he hadn’t heard the creature enter over the waterfall, but there it was. 

He had heard of faeries but never seen one outside of a picture book. The water spirit was tall and spindly, with two elfin ears that curled into soft points. His clothes were fine, but unusual like he’d heard about them from second-hand reference instead of actually seen any. His face was puckered in a frown, and two golden eyes were staring daggers at Arthur’s injuries. The prince moved his hand away from the bandages slowly as the faerie set down a fresh bundle of herbs and a dead fish.

“My mistake,” Arthur said. “...You helped me, didn’t you?”

The water spirit snorted. “Of course I did, do you see anybody else in here? D’you think the rocks came to your aid? And look at you, already poking at your scabs. Honestly, humans!"

He stalked forward. Arthur tried to scramble back and doubled over in pain.

The water spirit settled next to him and unraveled a bundle of wet pondweed. He flung the fish into the corner and began grinding the weeds into green mush. Arthur didn’t know what he was going to do with them until the faerie started unwrapping his bandages.

“Oh no, oh no no no,” Arthur groaned, “we’re not using that.”

The fairy snorted and slapped the cold, wet herbs onto Arthur’s skin. 

“OW! That stings,” he hissed. 

“Stop being such a pansy, it’s not so bad. You’ve got strong roots; a few days and you should be walking like normal.” the faerie said.

Arthur glared at him. He was  _ not _ a pansy, and it would be more than ‘a few days’ for him to get back on his feet. By all rights he should be dead; injuries like this didn’t heal so well without...His eyes widened.

“You--you,” he stared at the creature in half amazement and half horror, “you used magic on me!”

Arthur felt his heartbeat quicken; this was bad, who knew what side effects he’d have. Faerie spells were notorious for their double-edged results. He spied his broken blade nearby, just barely out of reach.

The faerie saw where he was looking and said, “you’re supposed to say thank you, idiot, not stab me.”

“I have no need to thank a magic user,” he said instantly, “although...you did save my life.”

“An astute observation; If I could lie I would say I’m impressed.” the creature said smartly.

“Shut up,” Arthur grumbled, “just what are you, and why did you help me?”

“‘Shut up, answer my questions’. I can’t do both, you know,” he retorted. 

Arthur ground his teeth as a fresh wave of pain hit him; the herbs tingled on his skin. Pondweed was  _ not _ a medical herb. He was going to get an infection and die because of this stupid faerie.

“Does it still hurt?” the creature asked. Arthur was surprised by the concern in his voice. 

“Obviously. What do you think being stabbed feels like?” he groused. 

The fairy wrung its hands, frowning. “I wish I knew more healing magic, but it’s not my kind’s strength. I’m sorry.”

Arthur looked at the creature’s ears (and the furred tail that he’d missed at first glance) and asked, “What  _ is _ your kind?”

“I’m a Nix!” he said brightly, “we drown people!”

Arthur paled. 

“Oh, don’t worry,  _ I _ don’t like drowning people,” The Nix said earnestly, “I’m not like the others, just ask any of them. I’m going to keep you safe until you’re better.”

“How can I trust you?” Arthur asked, “you’re not human.”

“I can’t lie either, moron,” the fey shot back, gold eyes dilating. “Didn’t I say so earlier?”

It had, and Arthur had heard stories of faeries that could only speak the truth. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to put faith in a bunch of hearsay his nanny had scared him to bed with years ago.

“I can’t be certain,” he said, failing to get up again, “But even if you are truthful, I can’t stay here. I need to get back to Camelot. Cenred’s men are burning the villages near our borders; we need to muster an army to deal with--”

He shuddered and sank back against the cave wall. His skin cooled against the wet stone, and he realized for the first time that his cloak was gone.

“You can’t move right now, you’re too hurt,” the Nix said truthfully. “And there are nasty creatures out there looking for you. I’ll keep you safe until they leave, then you can go.”

Arthur breathed lightly as the world spun around him. He locked eyes with the strange, watery spirit that had saved him.

“Why?” he asked. 

“You were bleeding all over my poplar tree,” the faerie replied. “I couldn’t ignore you.”

“That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Arthur retorted as he closed his eyes. “I thought Faeries were mystical, not idiots…”

“I’m not an idiot,” the faerie protested, “and at least I’m not trying to walk around with my belly cut open. Lie down...There. Now get some rest Goldie, I’ll be back later…”

_ My name’s not _ ... Arthur thought irritatedly as he fell asleep. Exhaustion had caught up with him again.

 

***

 

When Arthur woke up the Nix was cooking fish.

He’d made a little fire in the corner, only a few feet from Arthur’s toes, who gingerly moved them aside when a stray spark singed them. If only the cave was bigger.

The Nix looked over at him and grinned. “You’re awake!”

“Awake and sore,” Arthur groaned, “everything hurts.”

“Oh, then I’ll get some more herbs--”

“No no, I’m good,” he said quickly. “Is that fish ready? I’m starving.”

The faerie nodded and handed him the skewer. Arthur dug in with relish; the Nix watched with fascination. 

“What?” Arthur asked through a mouthful.

“Nothing,” he said. “It’s just interesting to watch...Does it really fill you up?”

“Nah, I’ll probably still be hungry,” he admitted, “don’t you ever eat?”

“No,” The Nix shook his head. “As long as I’m in the water, I don’t need anything.”

“Handy.”

“But I think I had honey once, a long time ago,” he said wistfully.

The faerie stared at the fire, eyes aglow with remembrance. Arthur watched his tail flick back and forth like a cat as the Nix got lost in his memories. His large, yellow eyes unnerved Arthur. They were similar to an animal’s, but he couldn’t remember what kind. A snake, a cat? He couldn’t tell in the dim light. 

“So…” he said eventually, “How long was I out?”

The Nix jumped, shaking off his stupor.

“Dunno, a day?” he said, cocking his head. “The sun went down once, I think.”

_ Sense of time; zero. Sense of urgency; nonexistent.  _ Arthur observed.

“I need to get back to Camelot,” he told him.

“Where’s Camelot?” the faerie asked.

“You’re the most ignorant person I’ve ever met,” Arthur said, exasperated, “we’re only a couple of miles from the border; do you  _ ever _ leave your pond?”

“No,” the Nix said, “there are bad things out there that want to steal me… Is Camelot a mountain?”

“A country; my father is king,” Arthur said proudly. “It’s the grandest place in Albion, and it is my duty to protect it.”

“So, you’re a...prince?” the faerie guessed.

“Obviously,” Arthur was starting to wonder if the Nix actually knew anything. “You’d know my name if you crawled out of your bog for a few minutes.”

“Really?” the faerie looked concerned. “I’d know your  _ name _ ?”

“What else?” He rolled his eyes, “speaking of which, what’s yours?”

The Nix pursed his lips, eyes narrowed. “You can call me Emrys.”

“Well, Emrys,” Arthur said, hoping against hope the backwater faerie recognized him and showed some respect, “I’m Arthur Pendragon.”

He’d expected a reaction, but not the one the fey gave him. Emrys bolted backward, tail fluffed in alarm. 

Arthur tensed, expecting for an attack of some kind. But Emrys looked far more frightened. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, half expecting Cenred’s soldiers to come bursting through the waterfall. 

“What’s wrong, you ask,” he said through clenched teeth, “you’re an idiot, that’s what’s wrong!” 

“Excuse me!?” Arthur growled. “I just told you my name--”

“Exactly, you moron!” the Nix howled, “just what were you  _ thinking!?” _

They glared at each other for a moment before Arthur realized he was missing something. He sighed and raised both hands to the sky.

“Okay, what did I say?” he asked. “Is there some faerie custom I screwed up?” 

Emrys hissed, eyes dilating to nearly black as his ears flattened against his head. For a second, he looked frightening. Then the Nix seemed to realize Arthur really was in the dark, and calmed down a little. 

“Well?” Arthur said.

The faerie stared ruefully at him before curling up next to him. There really wasn’t enough room for them both in the cave, and their knees were already bumping into each other’s. 

He had to wait a little longer before Emrys was ready to talk, and when he did it was in a low, tight voice.

“Haven’t you ever heard that names have power?” he started. 

Arthur opened his mouth to answer.

“No, stop, you obviously haven’t.” Emrys sighed. Arthur was offended. “Humans really are strange; for a faerie, their name is more important than their life. Giving it to someone proves you would do anything for them…”

“A sign of loyalty,” Arthur summarized. That explained his reaction.

“No,” the Nix glared at him, “I mean literally anything for them. If you knew my name and told me to drown a child, I’d have to. Or, if Cenred was bothering your little kingdom too much you could just use my true name to force me to flood the castle and plague his fields with rot.”

Emrys examined his webbed fingers, studiously ignoring Arthur’s eyes. The prince felt his face go white at the thought of someone with so much power at their command; it would be so easily misused. And then Arthur made a terrible connection.

“You know my name,” he said. “Oh no, you know my  _ name _ .”

“Don’t worry, you’re fine. Human names are different from faerie ones, and you only told me your name. On the other hand, if you’d  _ given _ it to me you’d be in a whole lot of trouble…”

Arthur sighed in relief; that was close.

“I didn’t mean to overreact,” the Nix continued, smiling self-deprecatingly, “I just haven’t spoken with anyone in a while. Ever since those bad men came and started raiding all my friends left. Nobody wants to visit my glade anymore. I don’t really blame them though. There’s too much iron in the air.”

“Iron is poison for you, isn’t it?” Arthur managed. His throat was stuck. “Why haven’t you left?”

“This is my home,” Emrys said in confusion, as if the thought never occurred to him, “where else would I go?... Camelot?”

“Oh, Gods no!” Arthur said, anxious to change the subject from true names and faerie poison. “Magic is outlawed; my father would have you killed.”

“He’d have to catch me first,” Emrys said wryly, “and nobody’s ever done that before.”

“You don’t look that fast,” Arthur observed. In fact, Emrys seemed pretty clumsy.

“Get me in a river and I’ll show you fast,” the Nix said, arching his fingers; his nails bent into thin white claws. “I haven’t lost a race yet.”

“Just be glad you’re across Camelot’s border,” Arthur said, “if you were I’d be forced to deal with you.”

“What, like kill me? I saved your life, you ungrateful prat.” Emrys scoffed. “The least you could do is thank me.”

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re still dangerous. If I were healed and had a better sword I might do something,’ Arthur explained, “But I’m far too weak.”

“I suppose that makes me a fool for healing my would-be murderer,” he replied. “It’s a good thing we fey aren’t known for making sense.”

“You’re the most nonsensical creature I’ve ever met,” Arthur agreed. “And that includes the goblin I met two years ago.”

“What did the goblin do?”

“Try and possess me so it could steal from the treasury. Luckily the Witchfinder was in town and put a stop to the whole thing.” he summed up.

The fey paled when he said ‘witchfinder’. So, even he wasn’t a complete bumblehead. 

“You said something about a sword?” he asked anxiously. 

“Yeah,” Arthur fumbled his broken blade off the ground. “It was my favorite; castle steel, two hand grip, and made by the castle blacksmith. Here.” 

He handed it to the Nix, who held it like a king’s crown, eyes wide with rapture.

“It’s so...so amazing,” he breathed, running a delicate finger down the snapped blade. “Where’s the rest of it?”

“Probably still in the forest, buried in the unlucky soldier,” Arthur answered. “...You like it?”

“Like it--I love it!” he cried, tightening his fingers around the blade. “Steel is my favorite; I have a whole collection of it in my pond.”

“Really?” Arthur said, once again surprised. “I thought your kind hated metal.”

“No, just iron. But I love steel…” Emrys’s eyes glazed over as he caressed the sword hilt. For a moment, all Arthur would see was a younger Morgana cradling her favorite doll when she’d been brought to Camelot.

“If you like it that much you can keep it,” he decided. 

“Really?” Emrys looked ecstatic, “Oh, but…” his face fell. “I can’t just accept this; I don’t want to owe you…”

“It’s not doing me any good now,” Arthur said, “besides, I need to reward you for saving me. You’re not telling me you weren’t going to demand a price; I know faeries have weird laws about that.”

“Well, I--uh,” Emrys couldn’t lie about the price; he’d been thinking of making Arthur polish all his steel, but this was much better. “Alright, this will do as repayment.”

Arthur sighed in relief; he didn’t want to imagine what twisted game the faerie would’ve made him play otherwise. He shifted, trying to make himself more comfortable before turning in. Emrys was oblivious to the rest of the world; his eyes were only for the sword in his hands. Arthur tried to fall asleep, but the faerie started to hum happily. He inwardly rolled his eyes and blocked out the noise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to TheStoryVerse for beta-reading; you're a great pal!
> 
> Going off of that, I got a lot of comments about how stupid Arthur is in this chapter. ('Verse is an Arthurian/Folklore nut). After all, he gives his name to a faerie and (even worse) asks what its name is to boot. If it had been anyone but Emrys, Arthur would have found himself very, very dead (if he was lucky.) It's about as insulting as you can get to a faerie. Haha, oh Arthur, you sweet summer child...


	3. Chapter 3

Emrys didn’t go insane and kill Arthur after a couple of days, which made Arthur grateful. His medical treatments weren’t bad either, although the prince didn’t trust the herbs the faerie used on him. 

He would be well enough to leave in a day or two, and then he could head back to Camelot and warn his father about Cenred. That dictator was overstepping his bounds for the last time.

But in the meantime, he was grateful for the Nix’s company. Emrys was a bumbling idiot, Arthur discovered, and prone to babbling about plants and flowers at a moment’s notice. But he wasn’t one of the terrifying fey he’d heard of as a kid, and there were no riddlish comments or haughty remarks about his mortality. Really, it was getting him to shut up that was the problem.

Every day, Emrys would find food for Arthur and chatter about what the weather was like outside the cave, or what tunes the birds were singing. Apparently, there was a robin nest in his poplar tree, and the eggs were beginning to hatch. The Nix was so excited Arthur nearly forgot he was talking to a creature straight out of a horror story. He’d told the prince a few traditional tales, all involving drowned children and men driven mad from the Nix’s powers. They were the type of stories that would’ve given Arthur nightmares as a child, but now he found the dichotomy between Emrys and his race more disturbing. How the gentle water spirit had spawned from a race of child-serial killers was beyond Arthur; he was just glad it was Emrys who found him, not one of his deranged kinsmen.

When he was sick of telling stories, Emrys always demanded Arthur to take a turn, so he told the Nix about his adventures, Camelot, and how his simple border patrol ended with an ambush in the woods against Cenred’s mercenaries. 

“Cenred’s never been a friend of Camelot, but lately he’s been actively hostile.” He said. “At the rate he’s going it won’t be long before war is declared.”

“Why would he do that?” Emrys asked.

“I don’t know, he probably wants our land.”

“Why?” Emrys asked again, from his spot on the floor. His tail flicked lazily across Arthur’s legs, a wisp of black with a white puff on the end.

“You really don’t understand people,” Arthur said, internally wishing the Nix wouldn’t sprawl across the cramped cave, “if Cenred expands his kingdom into Camelot he’ll have our best fields.. It’s a power-play.”

“Okay. What will he do once he has more land?”

“Raise another army and conquer another kingdom, probably.”

“But what happens after he has all the kingdoms in Albion?”

“I guess he’ll build ships and go across the sea and conquer those countries.”

“And if he conquers the whole world, what will he do after that?” the faerie asked.

Arthur ground his teeth. “Emrys, are you being willfully stupid?”

“No, I just have no idea why he wants to hurt people. What’s the point?”

“The point is to take their stuff and show off his superiority,” Arthur said. “At least, I assume that’s why he’s doing it.”

“Does your dad do the same thing?” Emrys asked.

“No! My father is  _ not _ like Cenred,” Arthur seethed. “He would never attack without provocation; Camelot is a just kingdom.”

“Hmm, okay,” Emrys said, resting his head on Arthur’s knee. “It still doesn’t make sense though.”

“Of course not,” Arthur said, swatting the faerie’s tail out of his face again. It was surprisingly soft. “You’re incapable of violent action.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Emrys said. “I just prefer not to…oh look, there are fish down there. You hungry?”

Emrys peered down into his pond, glowing eyes seeing into its depths effortlessly at the waterfall roared mere feet away from them.

His tail flicked up into Arthur’s face again, and this time he had enough. As soon as the offending limb came at him again, he grabbed it.

“Maybe I’ll--AHH!”

The faerie shot up, tripped, and fell into the waterfall. Cold spray drenched Arthur’s clothes and he gasped from the chill. 

Emrys resurfaced and glared at Arthur like he was a mortal enemy.

Arthur was stunned. “That was...quite the reaction.”

The faerie hissed and sank under the water, eyes flickering out of view like lamps. 

“Whoops,” Arthur muttered. “My bad.”

  
  


***

 

Emrys kept his distance for a while, only leaving his pool long enough to change Arthur’s bandages. His suspicious glances at Arthur made him want to roll his eyes, but he promised not to touch the Nix’s tail again all the same. 

Days after being saved by the faerie, Arthur was beginning to think he was well enough to leave. His side still felt like a thousand bees had attacked it, and the weird poultice Emrys made itched like crazy, but his skin was mostly healed. If he could make it to the nearest village and borrow a horse, he’d be in Camelot in a week. 

“You can’t go!” Emrys said when he told him. “Those soldiers are still prowling the woods. One of them found your bloody handprint on my poplar tree, so they’re scouring the area. I’ve barely been able to keep them away from the waterfall with my magic; if you leave they’ll spot you in a second.”

“I know, but I can’t stay here, eating fish, forever,” Arthur argued. “Cenred is killing more innocents as we speak; I have to warn my father.”

“They’ll kill you,” Emrys insisted. “You’re too hurt to run if they see you, and that shiny armor will give your position away once you hit the valley.”

“Well, I can’t just sit around and wait for them to have their fill pillaging, can I?” Arthur shot back. 

Emrys pursed his lips thoughtfully. Arthur was preparing to keep pressing his case when the faerie sighed in defeat.

“Fine, I get it,” he said, “stupid prat.”

“Great, then I’d better get going-” Arthur began to stand.

“Oh no,” the Nix said, “You’re not going anywhere until I say so. I think there’s a nest--um, house--near the river you can go to. I’ll swim downstream and make sure it’s safe, so  _ stay put _ .”

“Fine,” Arthur groaned, sitting back down. “Just don’t take too long; we’re burning daylight.”

“Never fear, I’ll be fine as long as I stay in the water,” Emrys said and swam off. 

Arthur shook his head, still unconvinced the cheeky faerie was actually a creature straight out of a horror story. But what was even more ludicrous was that he saved him, and was still trying to keep him safe. 

_ I just don’t get faeries _ , he sighed.

 

***

 

Ambrose raced through the water, relishing the smooth coolness on his skin. The pond was far behind him as he darted through the stream, letting his magic carry him through blocked passages and dams as if it were an open lake. 

His skin sang from the sensation, and it was nearly impossible to stop himself from giving in completely to it and letting his physical form wash away. That was the trouble with being an elemental; the song of his true self always interfered with his assumed shape. But he couldn’t afford that right now, not when Arthur needed his help. 

Ambrose occasionally lifted his head above the water, keeping an eye out for the ramshackle cottage he dimly remembered. At first, all he saw were trees, rotting logs, and soldiers dressed in brown and black, carrying heavy iron swords that made his skin crawl. But finally, about three miles west, he found the hut. 

There had been a farmer living there a year ago if his memory served him right. There’d been sheep and some horses. But now the chimney was choking on a pillar of smoke, and nobody was to be seen. 

Ambrose scanned the area, but no, nothing. He frowned; this was worrisome. If Arthur couldn’t find a horse, he wouldn’t get very far at all. And with all those soldiers hanging around… Well, he had to be sure before sending the knight off into the world, didn’t he?

Ambrose nodded smartly and pulled himself out of the river. Time to do a bit of investigating.

 

***

 

Arthur was going to kill him, Ambrose reasoned. Not only had he gotten himself hurt after boasting about his powers, but he’d been gone over an hour. 

Ambrose gingerly lifted his hand off the shallow cut across his chest, frowning as his dark blood oozed onto the forest floor. It wasn’t so bad, although it hurt more than he’d expected. If he got back to the water soon it would heal quickly--well, a few days, if he babied it.

The soldiers had been in the house, cooking a pot of stew in the hearth. Ambrose had backed away from the house when their swords make his skin ache from proximity, but he’d tripped on one of the fresh graves in the backyard. He never was that coordinated out of the water.

He’d taken care of them, but it was that one soldier’s lucky blow that forced him to waste precious time under an oak tree, licking his wounds. 

Someone shouted in the distance; one of the surviving soldiers?

Ambrose stood, wincing slightly as he tried to shrug off the pain. The soldiers spotted him and he ran for the river. He had to get back to Arthur.

 

***

 

Never trust a faerie, Arthur decided. Even when they were truthful, they lied. ‘I’ll be real quick’ Emrys had said an hour ago, and he was still waiting for him. Either the farmstead had been a lot more interesting than the Nix gave it credit for...or Emrys was in trouble. 

_ He’s a Nix, a monster _ , he reminded himself,  _ Father would have him executed on sight. My injury is clouding my judgment. _

It would have been much easier to make a blanket statement about magical beings if Emrys hadn’t overturned all of Arthur’s prejudices by accident. Even the Nix mythos was wrong, given how lackadaisical was. There was no hint of the eerie water-spirit he’d heard of in legends in Emrys’s easy smile. Did Arthur have the stories wrong, or did everybody?   
_ Father would kill me if he knew what I was thinking _ , Arthur thought, unsettled by his change of view. It didn’t take a genius to know that plenty of creatures were hideous and used their powers for evil. 

He just didn’t think Emrys was one of those creatures. 

The Prince of Camelot sighed and shook his head. He could reframe his life later. Right now he only had one thing to worry about: Emrys. 

Just where was he?

Arthur rose shakily to his feet; that idiot probably got lost--or worse, attacked. He didn’t have time to wait for the Nix to stumble out of the woods; he had a kingdom to get back to. (and if he was being honest, a certain faerie to find before it got dark.) before he started forward though, he saw a shadow move on the other side of the waterfall.

For a moment he wondered if it was Emrys, but the Nix always swam into the alcove. He didn’t want to alert anybody about the hidden cave in case…

Arthur readied himself as one of Cenred’s soldiers slipped past the waterfall.

Apparently, Emrys’s wards weren’t as foolproof as he’d thought they were.

The soldier--a short man with a greasy beard--stared at Arthur like he couldn’t believe his eyes. Then he reached for his sword.

Arthur rushed forward and tackled him, trying to yank the sword from the other man’s scabbard and run him through. The soldier hit Arthur in the jaw to stop him; they both understood that whoever had the pointy thing essentially won the fight.

Arthur saw stars, but he held onto the scabbard in one hand and stuck his thumb in the man’s eye with his other, all the while gritting his teeth as his side screamed in protest. 

The soldier lurched away and they lost their footing; Arthur and the armored man fell into the pond, thrashing against each other as each tried to swim to the surface. Or drown their foe. 

Arthur had his chainmail on, but the soldier had a breastplate as well. That should have given Arthur the advantage in the water...but then again, the soldier wasn’t recovering from a severe injury. 

The sword was drawn, but it fell from their grasp and slid to the bottom of the pond, lost among Emrys’s trinket collection. Arthur lifted his head above the water long enough for one good breath before he was yanked back under by the fast-sinking soldier. 

He wrapped his fingers around Arthur’s throat and squeezed. Arthur tried to pull them off, but his eyes were going dark. His hands lost their strength, he was sinking…

A pale, webbed hand reached out and curled its fingers around the soldier’s wrists, knuckles bone white. Arthur saw a flash of pale, sharp teeth bared in a snarl and two gold eyes molten with rage before he sank into oblivion.

 

***

 

Those same strong hands pulled Arthur out of the water. He gasped--the air never felt so sweet!--and looked wildly around.

Emrys was on his knees beside him, a large, horizontal slash across his thin chest, oozing blackish blood. 

“T-Thought you said you’d be fine!” Arthur said, “liar.”

“I can’t lie, prat,” the faerie sniffed, “I just wanted a closer look.”

“You left the water?”

“Cenred’s soldiers were in the house; I don’t think we should go there.” he continued. “But there should be a town ten miles downstream. I’ll take you there.”

“ _ You left the water!” _ Arthur repeated, “Emrys, you’re such an idiot! Everything would have been fine if you hadn’t--”

“Saved your life? Your welcome, by the way,” the Nix said, glancing back at the pond. Arthur saw the water was mixed with red and averted his gaze.

“Is he…?” he asked, unsure why this soldier’s death disturbed him more than a battlefield of corpses. Oh, that was right; because it meant  _ Emrys _ would have killed him.

“It’s no more than he deserves to die,” Emrys said, “but no. I don’t like hurting people.”

Arthur looked up properly and saw the soldier lying face down on the grass a little ways away. He sighed in relief.

“He was going to kill you,” Emrys observed, “I should’ve given in to my instincts.”

The Nix curled his lips back, revealing a set of sharp canines that matched a bite mark on the soldier; Arthur pretended not to see the blood on his teeth, or the malicious glint in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry Arthur,” Emrys said, the fey madness fading from his features, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Scare me?” Arthur blustered, “I’m not scared.”

Emrys raised an eyebrow. “Must be nice to lie.”

The Nix flinched as he looked down at his bloodstained hand; his blood, not the soldiers. Emrys looked...confused as if he couldn’t understand why he was bleeding. 

Arthur sighed, suddenly exhausted.

“We’d better get that wrapped up,” he said.

Emrys looked at him as if he’d grown a second head. 

“Come on, get up,” Arthur said crisply, ignoring the sick feeling in his stomach as he held his hand out to the fey.

“...” Emrys only stared.

“I’m not going to watch you bleed out, idiot,” he said, “you saved my life twice now; I owe you.”

Faeries understood debts like humans understood breathing. Emrys took Arthur’s hand, his own still slick with blood, still looking unsure if Arthur would honor his word.

Arthur hoped he was. All his instincts were screaming at him to grab the unconscious soldier’s sword and run Emrys through like Uther had taught him to do. If he left the faerie alone, who knew when it would give into its wilder side and lure children to its pond for sport?

They re-entered the cave and Arthur used the remains of his cloak to bind Emrys’s cut, even adding some of the faerie’s nasty poultice. Emrys’s displeased face made him smile; karma was cruel. 

“Why?” Emrys finally asked as Arthur tied the final knot. 

“Why what?” Arthur asked. 

“You’re human; you don’t have to honor promises, and you hate magic,” Emrys explained. “I can tell you want me dead; why am I still alive?”

Arthur lowered his hands and glared at the Nix.

“If you’re so intelligent, maybe you shouldn’t ask stupid questions,” he said. “You’re right, the last thing I needed was more proof that you’re a dangerous creature, and the fact you have magic means I should have run you through with my sword days ago…”

He put a hand to his forehead, sighed, and continued. 

“But you’re also the most harmless person--I mean faerie--I’ve met, and you’re too dumb to be evil--oh don’t give me that look, it’s not helping your case.” Emrys frowned, but his eyes were smiling.

“I should--what did you say?--just give into my instincts,” Arthur sighed. “But maybe you’ve enchanted me. There’s no other reason why I’d hesitate to do my duty.”

He stood and helped Emrys stand. The faerie still looked like he’d been blindsided by Arthur’s soliloquy. 

“So...you’re not going to kill me then?” he said slowly.

“As of now,” he replied dryly, “I won’t have to as long as you don’t kill anybody.”

Emrys giggled, pale and unsteady. 

“Maybe you should sit down,” Arthur said, “you’re still losing blood.”

“No way,” the Nix said, “I need to get you out of here.”

“Still?” Arthur could barely believe him. “After all this?”

“Yeah, I like you,” Emrys grinned, “ and you deserve to be alive.”

Off-putting, that’s what it was. A faerie that was friends with Arthur Pendragon; could it get any stranger?

“Idiot,” he grumbled, pulling the Nix back outside. Cenred’s soldier was still collapsed on the grass, bleeding from his wounded eye. Arthur picked up his sword (Emrys grimaced at the iron weapon) and looked west.

“How far is it to the nearest town?” he asked.

“Ten miles; I knew you weren’t listening,” Emrys said. 

“Great, and it’s already afternoon. I’m not going to get there at this rate,” Arthur sighed. 

“We can set out tomorrow.”

“We?” Arthur raised an eyebrow. 

“Of course; you didn’t think I’d let you wander through enemy territory on your own, did you?” Emrys asked. “You wouldn’t get through the forest on your own.”

“And your injury is so light, isn’t it?” he drawled. “Face it Emrys, you need serious rest.”

“You can’t expect me to sit around while you get captured or killed,” he said. “Besides, I want Cenred’s men away from my clearing. It’s getting too rowdy around here.”

Arthur grinned, leaning on his new blade.    
“Fine, then I’ll give you the honor of accompanying Camelot’s crown prince to the border, so long as we stay by a river.”

“Obviously,” the faerie said, “I’d probably die if I was away from water too long. You’ve seen how often I trip on land.”

“Right then we’d better get going; night will set in any minute now. Follow me.” Arthur said, but Emrys grabbed his arm to stop him. 

“Wrong way, idiot,” he said, “it’s this way. Let the local lead, alright?”

“If you insist,” the prince yawned.

The injured duo faded into the woods, bickering amongst themselves. The glade’s waterfall cackled as they left, and blossoms fell from the poplar tree into the pond. 

Arthur didn’t know what he would do once he was back in Camelot; there was too much evil magic in the world for him to accept it, and that glimpse into Emrys’s monstrous side scared him. But the Nix who followed him home, and kept him safe from Cenred’s men, definitely wasn’t bad. 

They parted at the border, and as Arthur waved goodbye, he knew he’d miss the clumsy fool.

“Emrys,” he said before the faerie could disappear.

The Nix looked back at him, head cocked curiously. 

Arthur’s pride fought against his gratitude, but luckily the latter won and he did something out of character.

“...Thanks,” he said. 

Emrys’s face broke into a grin.

“You too,” he said and vanished into the stream. 

Arthur waited, but the faerie didn’t come back. He sighed; he didn’t suppose he’d see the strange creature again; a shame, he’d miss him.

But...He touched the red cloth on his arm; a piece of his Camelot cloak that Emrys had used for bandages. It was tattered and bloodstained but full of memories. Even if he never saw the fey again, at least he’d have something to remember him by.

Arthur didn’t know it, but Emrys was thinking the exact same thing back in his glade as he tied a similar piece of cloth around his neck; a neckerchief like he’d seen humans wear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading Under the Poplar Tree!
> 
> The funnest scene to write was when Arthur grabbed Emrys's tail. I pretty much wrote the fic just for that. Mwa ha ha ha!
> 
> But aside from that, I had a hard time getting the dialogue right. The fey are a peculiar race, and since Emrys can't lie, everything he said had to be brutally honest, or that clever misdirection the fey excel at. (for instance, Arthur asks for his name and Emrys says he can cell him Emrys. That's not his name, and really he's just choosing not to answer the initial question while pretending to.)  
> Emrys also turned into a Disney character instead of the mysterious creature I'd dreamed up. To be honest, I should have expected that.
> 
> I don't know when part 2 of Fairly Odd will come out; it depends on my writing schedule. But probably not for a week, looking at the mountain of homework I've got...in fact, just don't expect anything for a while. I don't want to get your hopes up. T-T


End file.
